Claiming His Own. Olivia Gates
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Just as she screamed again, he slid two fingers between the slickness of her folds, growling again as her arousal perfumed the air.
With only a few strokes, he had her senses overloading and release scorching through her body in waves, from his fondling fingers outwards. He completed her climax with rough encouragements before he slid down her body, coming between her shaking legs, spreading them over his shoulders, exploiting her every inch with hands, lips and teeth until she was thrashing again.
“Please, enough,” she moaned. “I need you....”
He subdued her with a hand flat on her abdomen, his face set in imperious lines. “Let me have my fill of your pleasure. Open for me, Caliope.”
His command had her legs falling apart, surrendering everything to him. He latched on to her core, drank her flowing essence and arousal until she felt her body would unravel with the need for release. As if he knew the exact moment when she couldn’t take any more, he tongued her, and she cried herself hoarse on a chain reaction of convulsions.
Before her rioting breath had a chance to subside, he slid up her sweat-slick body, flattening her to the bed. Her breath hitched and her dropping heat shot up again as soon as his tongue filled her, feeding her his taste mingled with that of her pleasure. It was unbelievable how he ignited her with only a touch.
He fused their lips for feverish seconds before he reared up, his eyes searching hers, his erection seeking her entrance. Finding both her eyes and her core molten, he growled his surrender and sank into her.
She cried out at the first inevitable shock of his invasion, that craved expansion of her flesh as it yielded to his daunting potency and poured more readiness to welcome him.
He groaned his own agonized pleasure as he rose to his knees between her splayed thighs, cupped her hips and thrust himself to the hilt inside her, hitting that trigger inside her that always made her go wild beneath him.
Knowing just what to do to wreak havoc on her senses, he withdrew, plunged again and again until her breath became fevered snatches and she writhed against him, demanding that he end his exquisite torment. Only then did he give her his full ferocity, in ram after jarring ram, in the exact force and cadence she was dying for.
He escalated to a jackhammering tempo inside her until she shrieked, arched in a spastic bow, crushed herself to him as pleasure detonated her, undoing her to her very cells.
Through the delirium she heard him roar, felt his great body shuddering, his seed splashing against her intimate flesh, dousing the inferno that threatened to turn her to ashes. She held on to awareness, to him, until he collapsed on top of her, filling her trembling arms, before she spiraled into an abyss of satiation, hitting bottom bonelessly, consciousness dissipating....
She came back into her body with a gasp as, still fused to her, he rose above her, his breathing as labored as hers, his eyes crackling with satisfaction, melting with indulgence, his lips flushed and swollen with the savagery of their coupling. He looked heartbreakingly virile and vital, and he was...hers.
She’d never allowed herself to think of him this way...but he was.
Since she’d met him, Maksim Volkov had been hers alone.
Though she’d long known of him, the Russian steel tycoon who was on par with her eldest brother, Aristedes, as one of the world’s richest and most powerful men, it had taken that first face-to-face glance across the room at that charity gala a year ago for a certainty to come to her fully formed. That he’d turn her life upside down. If she let him.
And she’d let him, and then some.
She still remembered with acute intensity how she’d breathlessly allowed him to kiss her within minutes of meeting, how he’d claimed her lips, thrust his tongue inside her gasping mouth, fed her the ambrosia of his taste, turned her into a mass of mindlessness. She’d never imagined she could feel anything so suffocating in intensity, so transporting in headiness. She’d never imagined she could need a man to take her over, to dominate her.
And within an hour, she’d let him sweep her to his presidential hotel suite, knowing that she’d allow him every intimacy there. It had only been on the way there in his ultimate luxury Mercedes that she’d regained enough presence of mind to tell him that she was a virgin, even when she’d been dreading that the revelation would end their magical encounter prematurely.
She’d never forgotten his reaction.
The banked fire in his eyes had flared again as he took her lips again in a kiss that was possession itself, a sealing of her surrender.
As he’d released her and before he’d set the car in motion, he’d pledged, “It’s my unparalleled privilege to be your first, Caliope. And I’m going to make it your unimaginable pleasure.”
And how he’d fulfilled his pledge. It had been so overwhelming between them, they’d both known that a one-night stand was out of the question. But because of the disastrous example of her own parents, then the disappointing track records of almost everyone she knew, she believed commitment was just a setup for anything from mind-numbing mediocrity to soul-destroying disappointment. She’d never felt the least temptation to risk either.
But wanting more of Maksim had gone beyond temptation into compulsion. The very intensity of her need had made it imperative she make sure their liaison didn’t take a turn in the wrong direction.
To ensure that, she’d demanded rules, upfront and unswerving, to govern whatever time they had together. They’d be together whenever their schedules allowed. For as long as they shared the same level of passion and pleasure, felt the same eagerness for each other. But once the fire was gone, they’d say goodbye amicably and move on.
He had agreed to her terms but had added his own nonnegotiable one. Exclusivity.
Stunned that he’d propose or want that, with his reputation as a notorious playboy, it had only made her plunge harder, deeper, until she’d lost herself in what raged between them. But all the time she’d wondered how long it could possibly last. Not even in her wildest dreams had she hoped it would burn that brightly for long, let alone indefinitely.
But it was now a year later and it kept growing more powerful between them, blazing ever hotter.
And she couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t.
But she had to tell him...
“I’m pregnant.”
Her heart hammered painfully as even she was taken aback at her own raggedly blurted out declaration. Then more as silence exploded in its wake.
It was as if he’d turned to stone. Nothing remained animate in him except his eyes. And the expression that crashed into them was enough.
Any unformed hope she might have held—that the pregnancy might lead to something more for them—died an abrupt and agonizing death.
Suddenly, she felt she’d suffocate under his weight. Sensing her distress, he lurched off her. She groaned with the pain of separation as he left her body for what was probably the last time.
She sat up unsteadily, groping for the covers. “You don’t need to concern yourself with this. Being pregnant is my business, as it is my business that I decided to have the baby. I only thought it was your right to know. Just as it is your right to feel and act as you wish concerning the fact.”
His grimness was absolute as he, too, sat up, as if rising from under rubble. “You don’t want me near your baby.”
Did her words make him think that she didn’t?
She forced out a whispered qualification through her closing throat. “It is your baby, too. I welcome your role in its life, whatever you want it to be.”
“I mean you don’t want me near your baby. Or you as a new mother. I’m not a man to be trusted in such situations. I will give the baby my name, make it my heir. But I will never take part in its upbringing.” Before she could gasp